


icarus

by gh0stbvrsoot



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Assassin Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Blood, Enemies to Lovers, Injury, Knight Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), M/M, Magic, Major Character Injury, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Prince Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Royalty, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-15 01:14:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29427963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gh0stbvrsoot/pseuds/gh0stbvrsoot
Summary: maybe sapnap is icarus, flying too close to the sun. he’ll get burned if he’s not careful, but it’s an inevitable fate he can’t escape. eventually his wings are bound to melt; hot, seeping wax coating his scorched skin. the pain will be excruciating, unlike anything else. it’ll burn.
Relationships: Clay | Dream/Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 17
Kudos: 60
Collections: mcyt writers valentine's day blind date event!





	icarus

**Author's Note:**

  * For [k_aro](https://archiveofourown.org/users/k_aro/gifts).



> hello ! 
> 
> this fic is first and foremost a part of a mcyt valentines day ficwrite :]  
> — i picked the royalty au as well as assassin au [former knight turned assassin, in this case]. the trope is enemies to lovers
> 
> k_aro; i hope for you to thrive, as well as achieving all your dreams and goals you have in life. you will perservere, and youll get through whichever obstacles you now may face. youre a beacon of light, and your writing is genuinely so mesmerizing and breathtaking ??? im absolutely at a loss. not to mention, youre a super sweet person and you deserve the utmost best. life is special with you here, and you positively impact those around you purely by existing <3 
> 
> — enjoy ! :]

maybe sapnap is icarus, flying too close to the sun. he’ll get burned if he’s not careful, but it’s an inevitable fate he can’t escape. eventually his wings are bound to melt; hot, seeping wax coating his scorched skin. the pain will be excruciating, unlike anything else. it’ll burn.

there’s something so utterly enticing about that, burning up until there’s nothing left of you. the tragedy of his demise, a downfall he will welcome with open arms. he’s at fault for this. prince sapnap is already presumed dead— if he dies as nick, few will know of what happened to him.

and none will show up to his funeral, because there will be no funeral to attend. he’ll remain a stranger, a mere passerby in this all too quiet town known as lenofney where nothing happens. just like it is always intended to be. truth be told, he likes it here, though.

yes, he’s affiliated with the fact he’s going to die by the hands of an assassin. he’s not giving up without a fight; they’re both equally skilled, trained under the same kingdom. _his_ kingdom— or used to be. prince sapnap has been presumed dead for six months, and died during the war, specifically.

as a traitor to his own kingdom no less, helping refugees and resistance groups. helping the enemy. [ _not the enemy_ , he bitterly thinks. his father is the enemy, waging war, causing chaos, destruction and pain in his wake]. people fear the king. and sapnap, he was blinded, misguided, weaponized and manipulated.

all in favor for his father; and cast aside when he realized the truth. he did the right thing by faking his death. except the months have been a constant blur of moving places, seeking refuge, staying alive and hiding. hiding from the assassin that is sent to kill him.

he doesn’t remember how or when it started, the hunt and thrill of the chase. all he knows is that it’s a dangerous game and sometimes, _sometimes_ he slips up on purpose, allowing himself to be found. he wants to see how far, how willing the assassin is to do what must be done.

sapnap is careful not to get too close, tip-toeing around the assassin as if both of them are caught in a dance neither of them can win. he doesn’t want to lose himself though, not yet. because a different kind of fire is burning within him, a fire said assassin ignited. all he needs is a spark.

 _pandas_. that’s all it took for him to know who the assassin was. maybe the beauty will be his death, and the tragedy itself is that the action is performed by dream. the knight, formerly sworn to protect him, now turned assassin. how bittersweet it tastes on his lips, burning like poison.

he’s aware of the rumors surrounding his death, his actions and the ultimate consequence he paid in the end. he cannot return to his kingdom, not unless he has an actual death wish. and _yet_ , there’s one person always on his mind. that one person worth returning for. dream. he left dream.

it stings, the guilt a permanent burden he has to carry. he never wanted to leave dream, not like this and certainly not under these circumstances. it hurts. and a part of him is _tired_ , tired of running away. so he remains in lenofney under the pretense of nick, making a living as a baker.  
  


dream finds him on a sunny day, with townspeople bustling about. as the last remnants of morning dew rolls in, blanketing the streets in an ethereal, milky glow, the town square is busy with stalls of all sorts. fresh food, spicy herbs, ink and paper, and scented flowers mingle together as one.

niki is running errands out of town, and so sapnap remains at the bakery along with wilbur. distant voices overlap as the doorbell softly chimes, announcing the presence of another person. the customer knows exactly what they’re here for, cause soon enough the person is standing right in front of him.

leaving him cold to the core. dream’s presence is a looming threat, always one step ahead of him. he’s always been good at tracking people, _too_ good. his heart is hammering in his chest as sapnap lifts his gaze to meet his eyes. his expression is stoic, devoid of any emotion and recognition whatsoever.

sunlight seeps through the windows, cascading dream in golden hues. he can see every little speck of color in his eyes, count every single freckle across his face, and trace the faint scar across his nose. but there’s something different about him, he knows. they both know; words left unspoken.

the weariness of war is tearing him apart, and sapnap studies the dark bags under his sunken eyes, his thin frame and long, bony fingers. dream inhales sharply, the piercing gaze cutting through him. the ghost of a smile haunts his features, albeit it’s far from kind. he can end it, right here and now.

”what’s your specialty?” he asks instead, voice too nonchalant and calm for comfort.

sapnap gulps, dread sinking its claws into him. it spreads throughout his body, clawing at him from the inside and paralyzes him on the spot. the blood in his veins turn cold and every inch of him is screaming at him to run, to flee. he doesn’t do any such thing.

a familiar hand squeezes his shoulder, bringing him back. wilbur. he’s searching his face intently, eyes laced with worry and confusion. sapnap attempts a half hearted smile, although it doesn’t reach his eyes. there’s a mutual understanding as wilbur turns his attention towards the customer, subtly removing his hand. sapnap is thankful for him, he really is.

”customers are particularly fond of our pumpkin bread,” wilbur replies.

dream tilts his head ever so slightly, humming affirmatively. ”i’ll have that.”

he hates to admit that a part of him is relieved as he makes a beeline for the oven, leaving dream and wilbur at the counter. he fetches the fresh batch of pumpkin bread, delicately placing them down. herbs and spices wafts through the summer air, his stomach growling as if on impact.

he carefully retrieves a warm loaf of bread and folds it in a sachet before returning. the silent exchange speaks louder than words ever will as his rough, calloused hands deliver the sachet to warm, gloved hands. his skin pricks at the thought of knowing dream is intentionally watching him.

”safe travels,” he says, finally finding the courage to speak.

dream chuckles, expression unreadable. ”i’m sticking around. i’ll see you, pandas”

and with that, he turns around on his heels and departs as quietly as he arrived. the only sign of his presence is the flower, perched on the counter along with a batch of silver. the petals are pretty and pink, but there’s more than elegance to the unspecified flower.

he swallows thickly, parting his lips. there’s a wildfire ablaze in his heart, flames licking and tearing at the seams. the heat is overwhelming, clinging to the static air; electrified. he knows the line is blurry, of whether dream means the statement as a promise or a threat. _both_ , a voice tells him.

it thrills him, this game of theirs— as if it’s a secret only they share. wilbur visibly pales at the sight of said flower, but remains silent. sapnap eyes them with skepticism, unsure of what to do. it’ll be easy for him to throw the flowers away, but the pang of guilt and loss stops him.

there’s something sentimental about the gesture, despite the unusual feeling of drowsiness taking over him. instead he wraps a cloth around the delicate flowers, mesmerizing colors captivating in stark contrast to their current whereabouts. a part of him wants to touch the silklike petals, caress them with tender, gentle fingertips.

he decides it’s best to pay george a visit.  
  


george’s flower shop is nestled into the mountain side, overgrown vines and flowers taking up what little can be seen of the shop from outside. sapnap eagerly climbs up the steep, slippery stone steps, two at a time. disregarding the _closed_ sign, he opens the creaking door; beckoning him to come closer.

his hair stands on end as he enters, shivering from the impact of the thick atmosphere. it’s hot, his clammy shirt already sticking to his back and his damp, messy long hair clinging to his forehead. a certain smell lingers in the air, rain and fresh dirt. something about the shop is enticing, mesmerizing.

he’s drunk on the magic that constantly ebbs and flows like crashing waves, luring people from near and far. it’s thrumming through his veins, stretching outwards like a beacon. it’ll be so easy for him to unleash an unfathomable amount of energy, watch it all go up in flames. he restrains himself.

”we’re closed,” george calls out, voice faint but echoing along the high walls.

sapnap clears his throat, regaining posture. ”it’s nick. i have something for you.”

he appears almost immediately at this request, quirking an eyebrow. ”do elaborate.”

he picks up the flowers from his basket, cloth still wrapped protectively around the bouquet. a low hiss comes from george, but sapnap is too distracted by the sweet smell mingling together, leaving a strong trail of fragrance. out of his peripheral view george tenses, lips a thin line and harsh edges sculpt his usually neutral expression.

”did you touch them with your bare hands? i need you to be honest with me.”

sapnap scrunches his face in confusion. ”what?— no.”

”good,” he mutters softly to himself, nodding, ”good, good, good.”

he places the bouquet on a carved oak table, its messy contents already taking up most of the space. several unheard books with inscriptions, pages torn and inbounds worn up; notes written down in jumbled, scribbled handwriting as if in a hurry and the many specimens of flowers and plants.

”why do you ask?”

he inhales sharply. ”you don’t have to w—”

” _george_.” a beat of excruciating silence. then, a defeated sigh.

”it’s commonly known as oleander or nerium. poisonous. where did you find this?”

cocking his head, he now observes sapnap with newfound curiosity. he’s hesitant to answer, the shock overwhelming him. he isn’t quite sure where or how dream managed to find oleander, and he certainly isn’t willing to find out either. yet he’s not surprised— of course a flower so hypnotizing is poisonous.

”a gift,” he replies much too fast and inwardly curses at himself. _it’s not a lie_.

”a gift,” george slowly repeats, dragging every syllable. ”is someone out to kill you?”

he scoffs. ”i’m not of importance to anyone.”

by the look of his expression, george isn’t convinced, not in the slightest. sapnap doesn’t blame him. he’s here at his shop after all, showing up unannounced with a poisonous flower. one's imagination and creativity can only run as far as you let it. he doesn’t wanna entertain or encourage it any further than what’s necessary.

he’s quiet for a bit, contemplating his words. ”... you know, the forest whispers.”

”about what?”

”you, prince sapnap.”

his eyes widen, heart skipping a beat. ”so you know who i am.”

george nods, confirming his statement. as their eyes meet, he doesn’t fail to notice the remnants of lingering sadness in his gaze. deep down, a part of him knows that he’ll keep this a secret between the two of them. a secret spoken from the forest to those that are willing to listen.

he’s not surprised that it’s george out of all the people, he’s skilled and has practiced magic for a long time. the forest will weep as he draws his last breath, and the secret will turn into a tale about a long forgotten prince with no heir nor name attached to him.

it’s comforting, in a sense. he leaves not long after, keeping the bouquet tucked safely and sound. george advises him to throw them away, but it’s all he has left as a weak reminder of dream. when he returns home, he encases the bouquet in a glass box, well aware they’ll wither eventually.

everything will rot and die.  
  


his second encounter with dream is unexpected, to say the least. it was only a matter of time, but it’s the circumstances that baffles him. he's always been a wildcard, unpredictable. sapnap returns home in the dead of a moonless night, with only the pale lamplight and bright stars to guide him home.

and he finds his door unlocked, busted open. his bare feet shuffle against the cold floorboards and he opens his palm, summoning a ball of fire before continuing. it crackles, the flame itself dim and casting long shadows as he reaches the living room. he's met by none other than dream.

”you kept the flower,” he observes, voice dropping low. ”peculiar.”

dream turns his gaze away from the bouquet to face him, a perplexed expression replacing his stoic nature. sapnap takes a step closer; then another, heartbeat thumping loudly as he does so. neither of them acknowledge how the fire in his palm roars with each sickening step, dooming him. he’s been cold since he left.

”i’m merely admiring your gift.”

only then does he notice something lying on the table, glinting in the few rays of starlight peeking through the curtains. it’s a necklace, immediately sparking recognition. one that dream gave him a long time ago, on a sleepless night just like this. except now things are different between them; the universe feels the shift too.

sapnap bites his tongue, unable to look at him. ”why?”

when dream fills the room with silence, sapnap reaches out to touch the necklace. he traces the metal lightly, cold to the touch. there’s a sour, bitter feeling in the back of his throat, venomous words he doesn’t wish to spew. words that are directed at himself— he’s the one to blame for this.

”you’re a traitor,” his smile is mean, sinister.

his eyes twinkle in the low glow of light emitting, fire reflecting dangerously and sapnap swallows. he closes his palm, engulfing them both in darkness. it all happens too fast for him to register, and once he does, it’s too late. dream strikes first, the gleaming blade sinking into his shoulder.

blood gushes from the wound, staining the thin fabric of his shirt a deep red. he groans, feeling lightheaded as the flash of white, hot pain paralyzes him to the core. dream pulls out the blade, forcing him against the wall. the impact knocks all the air out of him, leaving him breathless.

it occurs to him just then that the only thing keeping him upright is the tight grip dream has on him. once sapnap regains posture and his legs no longer are shaking, he lets go. he’s taken by surprise when dream trails a light finger down the side of his face, lifting his chin.

”are you scared?” he murmurs, voice sickly sweet.

their eyes meet and he feels the cool metal rest against his bare neck. a fine line of blood trickles down, earning a shudder in response. his heartbeat is pounding, only amplified as dream licks his lips and smirks. he is spring in blooming; and his honey-suckled mouth dripped in venom caresses the corner of sapnap’s lips.

he’s in a daze, eyes clouded. ”kill me.”

”no,” dream whispers, lips ghosting tauntingly along the shell of his ear. ”it’s not your time yet.”

he retreats soundlessly, slipping out the back door. all that’s left is the ghost of his haunting touch and wordless lullabies, illuminating echoes that are all too soon devoured by the break of dawn. the dull, aching pain in sapnap’s shoulder brings him back with a shiver. 

he should know better than to initiate this dance.   
  


a few days later sapnap finds himself at the tavern, located on the outskirts of lenofney. people never ask questions, and he appreciates the anonymity; or rather, he’s dependent on it. but people don’t seem to care here, everyone comes and goes. he will be no different than the others.

as he steps inside, he notices the foul, charred smell lingering in the air, mixed with that of salt, sweat and spilled beverage. dark magic. it makes his blood sing, alluring in its hypnotic, destructive ways. he doesn’t deal with the arts of dark magic, though; he’s heard one too many stories about people losing themselves.

for good, that is. it’s not a price he's just willing to pay.

the tavern is quiet, safe for a few patrons milling about. they’re hunched in corners, blankets of shadows disguising their silhouettes and all that’s left is their voices talking in low, hushed murmurs. depending on the night, it’s usually rowdy, full of life and he’s witnessed fights more than he can count.

though some tables are occupied by patrons; slumped over their tables, glasses littering the surface. the bartender behind the counter nods at him, then goes back to cleaning glasses. for a moment he debates, settles on ordering a pint and finds himself a table in the back of the tavern.

it’s dimly lit, candlelight occupying tables and lanterns hanging low from the ceiling. barrels and shelves are discarded in corners, wobbly, creaking stools and tables taking up most of the space. he’s fond of the tavern, of the safety and comfort it brings him, weighing down like a heavy blanket.

he nods gratefully as the bartender brings him his beverage. the golden liquid glides down smoothly, burning his throat. one pint becomes two, and soon enough glasses start piling up. his body is warm, buzzing from the alcohol intoxicating him. it’s not per say an unpleasant feeling, rather it’s welcoming.

it’s not often he allows himself to relax, if anything it rarely happens. right now he doesn’t care— whether it’s the alcohol or the recklessness speaking, he can’t tell. it should scare him, he’s used to being observant and in control of his surroundings. he’s tired of feeling paranoid, of assuming that everyone is out to get him.

and yet there’s a nagging feeling in the back of his mind, always lingering. his skin pricks, stomach churning the more he becomes uncomfortable. _he’s being watched_ , an unsettling thought creeps in. he looks around the room, when a flash of green catches his eye in the far corner. dream.

his face is obscured by the white smiley mask, in stark contrast to the shadows basking him in darkness. as if on cue dream leaves his seat, straightening up and approaching sapnap’s table with a purpose. the green cloak covers him from head to toe, a familiar trademark signaling who he is.

only to those that know him personally, though. and sapnap is aware of how warm and comforting the material is, reminiscing the times he’s been wrapped in the very same cloak. it’s worn over the years, mismatched stitches and patterns sewn on it. dream sits down in front of him.

”you’ll get yourself killed. people talk,” he folds his arms, leaning back. 

he looks dubiously at dream as his brows screw together. if sapnap didn’t know any better, he’d almost assume dream is accusing him of doing this on purpose. _almost_. he shrugs, elbows resting on the table and he reaches out for his drink. the chair creaks dangerously under his weight; he downs it in a swift motion.

”why do you care? you’re sent to kill me.”

dream winces at the impact of his harsh words, frozen in place. it’s the truth— he’s here to end his life. so why does he seem small of a sudden, his body ever so slightly shaking and knuckles turning white from clenching? it tugs at his heartstrings, seeing him this conflicted and torn.

”stop it,” he says through gritted teeth, words slurring. ”i don’t believe you.”

sapnap wants to believe him, to trust him more than anything in the world. but he’s well aware of dream’s acting skills going way beyond what is imaginable. he’s a terrifying force to be reckoned with. dream collects himself, clearing his throat while doing so. the mask is still intact, shielding his face.

”you assume that i want you dead,” his voice is quiet, defeated.

he sucks in a deep breath. ”you said it yourself, i’m a traitor. we all know what happens to traitors”

”maybe i’m searching for reasons to keep you alive.”

with that he gets up to leave, carefully placing his mask on the table. _something_ passes between them in that moment, unspoken and sacred. dream is wearing his heart on his sleeve, always has; and this is his confession. he loves him most ardently, and he is half of his soul.

what remains of his presence is the mask and a letter, addressed to _pandas_. it contains a poem, he realizes, once he opens it. something sparks inside of him, the words left unsaid resting on the tip of his tongue. chasing after the familiar silhouette on wobbly legs happens in a blur of colors.

out in the cold, his eyes desperately scan the empty streets. realization sinks in that he’s alone once again, and the cold bites through thin layers of fabric. calling for him in the void of night won’t do any good, his voice will be drowned out by the unforgiving howling wind.

dream will be his downfall, he loved him first; still loves him so tenderly. remembering the poem, his grip tightens on the paper. he recognizes the lines of poetry written in ink, etched into his memory— _my true-love hath my heart_. he used to recite the poem for sapnap, whispers of confessions for him to hear.  
  


it's quiet as sapnap ventures out into the night, forest growing deeper around him with each sickening step he takes. the darkness beckons him to come closer, its stillness a familiar embrace. his eyes remain firmly on the path though, the moon and stars dimly twinkling and glowing from above.

they’re the only current source of light guiding him through the blinding darkness. for a moment he considers summoning a ball of fire, but decides against it. the fire is his anchor, grounding him and bringing him comfort. but it’s already risky as is— he knows it’s a dangerous game he’s playing.

one does not simply find dream. he finds you; and when he does, he'll be the last thing you see before exhaling your last breath. sapnap is also very aware of the fact that he's playing into dream's upper hand, knowing the forest is his playground. this is an obvious choice, of course.

he wants dream to find him— nay, _expects_ him to. a branch suddenly snapping behind him alerts the presence of someone else. he sucks in a sharp breath, paralyzed on the spot as his heartbeat thump-thump-thumps wildly like a caged butterfly. this is it. this is what he's been waiting for.

the branch snapping isn’t a mistake on dream’s part; he wants sapnap to know that he’s here, he’s watching, he’s _hunting_. hunting him, out of all the people. what little sliver of hope he has left is devoured as dream steps forward, meeting his piercing stare. dream sees right through him.

his movements are gracious, and there’s something so hypnotizing about dream revealing the sword in his hand with a swift motion. it’s engraved with gold, carved and born from the same fire like sapnap. a gift he gave to dream, and it feels like it happened in another lifetime.

if only things were different for them, this wouldn’t have to be the outcome. sapnap bites down on his lower lip, hard and draws blood, the metallic tang on his tongue a bittersweet reminder. dream tilts his chin upwards with the tip of the sword, a snarl replacing his usual stoic, unreadable expression.

he holds dream’s gaze, eyes flickering to memorize and map each minuscule detail of his features for him and himself alone. dream is the sun; bright and burning, and his world revolves around him. he accepts that he’s on a collision course and he’s crashing, falling like icarus and it’s a beautiful sight to behold.

he doesn’t know who initiates the fight, but everything happens all too soon in a blur of flashes and glimpses. their swords are clanging in the air, filling the dead, hollow night. it sounds like a bell tolling, and with each attempt to block off of dream’s aggressive, calculated hits, the louder it gets.

he’s suddenly aware of their heavy breathing, along with the sweat, dried blood and metal lingering in the cold, fresh night air. it all happens too fast for him to register it, but the sword sinks into his lower left side with ease and he collapses on the ground with a pained growl.

dream retracts the sword, blood gleaming as it rests on sapnap’s neck with a calmness unlike any other. the excruciating pain pulsing throughout his body is overshadowed by the burning sensation threatening to build up. it courses through his veins, and it is all that he is— all he will ever know. born from the fire.

he unleashes a fury blaze, and everything around them burns, flames licking and tearing the forest apart in the only way it knows; destruction. it scorches his skin, agony flowing through his body and blinding him. the acrid smoke burns in his lungs, eyes stinging from the sheer force of impact.

 _i’m sorry_ , he wants to whisper to the forest in his delirious state of mind, adrenaline kicking in. sorry that the forest must weep for him, even when facing his wrath and self destructive ways. it does not deserve to suffer by the hands of his actions, he’s at fault for this.

but he cannot contain himself, not even if he wants to; he's beyond the point of no return. the fire pours out of his open palms, spreading at a rapid speed. he chokes, teary eyes gazing towards the blackened sky. not even the stars and the moon can save him from himself.

out of his peripheral view, dream lifts his sword to deliver the final blow, albeit with a shaky, unsteady hand. he staggers to his feet, trying much to his frustration to gain a firm footing as everything falls into place. with his body still adjusting to the pain, he looks into dream’s eyes.

”you’re not my father’s mindless killing machine,” he raggedly breathes out, taking a step forward.

dream’s grip on the sword falters, if only for a second. ”you left me.”

he winces, guilt and regret evident as he speaks. ”i never wanted to leave you.”

a beat of silence. then, ”why did you?”

sapnap is taken aback by the sincerity and quiet tone of voice. he hasn’t experienced this in so long, dream being vulnerable and open with him like they used to be. it occurs to him just how much he misses this, and he’s far too comfortable with embracing the welcoming feeling, given the situation.

he swallows thickly, throat dry. ”... would you have followed me?”

”i’ll follow you to the end of the earth.” _a confession_.

his voice is barely above a whisper, and it’s reminiscent of a time long gone, lingering touches and longing gazes reserved for each other only. maybe, just _maybe_ dream is the sun; his demise, but sapnap doesn’t care if he gets burned as long as he’s with him. he’s worth enduring the pain.

dream closes the distance between them, carelessly tossing the sword aside. with both hands free, they roam sapnap’s body and he shivers. he allows himself to melt into the touch, his tired, sore body fighting with every fibre to stay upright. he latches onto dream’s shirt, his hand balling into a fist.

the wound stings, blood still soaking through his shirt and the scent of iron fills his nostrils. despite that, he smiles; wide and teary eyed. he feels lightheaded from the loss of blood and dream keeps him upright with a firm grip around his waist. he guides sapnap to a spot, untouched by the fire.

dream carefully places him on the damp ground against a tree, and his head lulls to the side. the fire is dying, and all there’s left in its wake is smoldering ashes polluting the air. sapnap promises that he’ll tend to the forest, help it grow, flourish and thrive once again.

”you’re … not inherently a bad person,” he mumbles, once it’s completely quiet.

dream laughs, though it’s hollow. ”i’ve committed unspeakable actions.”

sapnap merely shushes him with a slow, gentle kiss; one that dream reciprocates. their lips fit perfectly together, dream’s full and plump lips deepening the kiss tenderly. he wants to die for love, he always has— and whatever their souls are made of, his and dream’s are the same. as their lips reluctantly part, he sighs.

”i forgive you,” he breathes out, eyelashes fluttering. ”your actions do not define who you are or your worth.”

”i’m sorry, pandas,” he murmurs repeatedly to himself in a hushed voice, and sapnap knows it’s not meant for him to hear.

he strips him out of the bloody shirt, sapnap helping to the extent he’s able with. the wound is in the process of healing thanks to his powers, but dream finds the necessities he needs in a hurry. he’s quiet while working, first with a damp cloth gently dabbing at the wound.

his expression is replaced by a frown, his mouth set in a deep, thin line and guilt etched into his features. firm, steady hands keep him upright while continuing working, until the wound is as clean as it’s able to. if anyone knows anything about wounds and scars, it’s dream.

”is it okay if i check for other possible wounds?” his voice is quiet, uncertain.

sapnap nods faintly at this, yet manages to flash him a reassuring smile. familiar, tender hands trails along his stomach, arms, neck and biceps, and he shivers at the featherlight, loving touch. despite everything, dream keeps him grounded when he needs it the most; when he’s falling, he anchors sapnap.

a hand suddenly reaches out for his own, squeezing three times and his heart flutters. it used to be their way of signaling unspoken words between them when they struggled to formulate sentences, their way of saying _i love you_ s. he laces their hands, humming in disapproval when dream unwillingly retreats to gather something.

he shoots him a quick, apologizing glance; then sapnap nods in approval at the sight of the bandages he retrieves from his belongings. he wraps it around the wound and a pained hiss escapes sapnap’s lips, body jolting upright. dream finishes up in a hurry, humming thoughtfully to himself while studying the bandages.

he hesitantly gathers fresh clothing and a potion, holding it out for him to study. ”this’ll help.”

he’s all too familiar with the potion and its usage— healing. the bubbly, pink bright substance is glowing in stark contrast to the darkness surrounding them and he wets his lips. dream kneels in front of him, slowly bringing the potion to his lips. he tilts his head ever so slightly, grimacing as he downs it.

as he makes a move to leave, sapnap reaches out for his hand. ”stay. _please_.”

he turns his back to sapnap, though making no move whatsoever to let go of his hand. sapnap squeezes, three times, and he sees the faint ghost of a smile on dream’s lips. his fingertips grasp at his hand, in between the spaces of his fingers and delicately trailing along his wrist. dream shudders.

”there’s something i must do,” he says, before emphasizing, ”alone.”

he cautiously lets go of his hand, something unspoken passing between them in that moment. it’s not a goodbye— but it doesn’t make it any less bittersweet, sapnap longing and yearning for the touch of his embrace. all there’s left is embers, glowing in the dead of night. it’s not enough to keep him warm.

in the next couple of days he tends to the forest, growing trees, flowers and bushes with the help of george’s expertise. he hopes he'll be forgiven for the pain he caused, memories still fresh and vivid in mind. george opens his mouth several times as if to speak during their encounter, but keeps it to himself. it’s for the best.  
  


something is different in the air as sapnap enters the town square, people bustling about. of course the townspeople of lenofney talk; hushed whispers in every nook and cranny, whispers they do not wish to talk about in public out of fear. but this time it’s different, a shift in the universe. it’s finally balanced.

granted, news does not travel particularly fast in areas such as where lenofney is situated, and few of them are able to afford newspapers. but everyone knows of this— the king is dead. his father. he does not weep or mourn the loss of him, noticing how the town seems to light up in a way it hasn’t before.

it’s a slow healing process, but everyone is lively, coming out of their shells now that fear no longer is a determining factor in their life. lenofney can finally thrive, flourish and grow, just like it’s meant to. the town has suffered enough loss as is, thanks to his father.

he makes a beeline through the crowd, the familiar bakery coming into sight almost immediately. the doorbell chimes and he’s greeted by the smell of something sweet sifting through the warm air. niki and wilbur simultaneously look up while baking bread, their fond smiles reminding him that _yeah, he’s home_.

he’s right where he’s supposed to be. his stomach churns, growling in anticipation and niki offers him a loaf of their bread. he accepts it with a thankful nod, taking a bite. flavors explode in his mouth and his eyes widen in sheer surprise. niki laughs at his reaction, earnestly.

”we’re trying out a new recipe,” she explains, eyes gleaming secretively.

he takes another bite, humming. ”it’s really good,” he says around a mouthful of food.

wilbur laughs, his nose scrunching up. ”right? speaking of, someone’s here to see you.”

he points behind him, sapnap following his gaze. as he turns around, the door chimes just in time for him to be standing face to face with none other than dream. he blinks, outstretching a trembling hand; longing, yearning, _searching_. he’s unharmed, and no longer plagued by the tiredness and weariness.

their hands join one another and dream squeezes, _three times_. this time neither of them have any intention of letting go, and sapnap quickly waves to both wilbur and niki with his free hand as they exit the bakery. dream guides them through the booth and stalls, paying no mind to the familiar noises surrounding them.

as they walk further away, the distant overlapping voices of people talking become faint, drowned out. before he even knows of it, they’re on a path leading away from lenofney. trusting dream, he follows suit. the former retrieves something from his pocket, fiddling with the item before handing it to sapnap.

 _oh_. it’s— it’s his crown. out of all the things dream brought him, it’s his crown and he knows it’s a statement. it’s cool against his warm skin, fingertips gracing along it and his throat tightens. it comes with a responsibility, a duty. uneasy is the head that wears a crown, and he is no different.

dream smiles, reaching out to tug a lock of sapnap’s hair behind his ear. ”come home, prince sapnap.”

taking in the breathtaking scenery before them, he realizes dream leads them to a flower field. they pass by sweet scented flowers mingling together, leaving a strong trail of fragrance behind. they’re colorful and mesmerizing, bright and radiant colors harmonizing as one. it reminds him of sweet summer nights, devoted to mapping dream’s features down to the last detail.

”i’m home wherever you are,” he breathes out, feeling full of love.

dream is basking in the sunlight, his heart melting at the sight; it’s like falling in love with him all over again and he does, always will fall in love with him. it's a promise, one he made to dream— his sun, years ago. he firmly places the crown on top of his dark, messy hair.

”my true-love hath my heart,” dream mutters against his lips. ”and i have his.”

his voice is full of love and adoration as he affectionately kisses sapnap; desperate fingers running through his hair, stroking his face, caressing his jaw tenderly. he breaks away, leaning his forehead against his and breathing slightly heavy. sapnap’s heart is beating out of his chest, trying to contain all the love he feels for dream.

he closes his eyes, basking in his ethereal presence. ”his heart in me keeps him and me in one.”


End file.
